


envy for the solid ground

by Nervouslaughter508



Series: mandalorian fics [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Angst, Boba Fett & Fennec Shand Friendship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Late Night Conversations, Night Terrors, i couldn't sleep until i finished this, i guess you could call this character study?, i'll edit it in the morning, someday i'll write something thats not angst but not today
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-13 11:41:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28902807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nervouslaughter508/pseuds/Nervouslaughter508
Summary: "I have them too."Boba looks at her, surprised."I... I did not die at once." Fennec says slowly."No. Neither did I." Boba says, staring ahead.
Relationships: Boba Fett & Fennec Shand
Series: mandalorian fics [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2119692
Comments: 3
Kudos: 21





	envy for the solid ground

**Author's Note:**

> title from blue octobers 'into the ocean'

Sometimes, in his dreams, Boba is still in the pit. 

He’s still spiraling out of control, being pulled in, he’s grasping at the sand thinly, he’s struggling, coiled up, he’s, he’s- 

Gasping awake on his father’s ship, face hot, sweating like he’s still on Tatooine. And the thing is, he _was_. He was just there. He can feel the heat and scratch of the sand, the whipping of the pit. He can feel the years settle into his skin like chains that no one can break. He needs a drink, he needs a bounty, he needs a distraction, he needs to get a _grip_. He swings his legs over the side of his bunk, fighting for steady breath. He rubs his shaking hands over his face, over his ragged scars. His father's marred face. 

The pit will never leave him, it’s imprinted on his skin, it’s a parasite, living on him with no permission. That’s how it has been six years, and every night he’s sentenced to go back.

“Boba,” He hears from above him. Fennec Shand, something of a friend, something of an ally, drops down from her top bunk, immediately on her guard. “Are we under attack?” 

“No,” Boba rasps. “No, we’re fine. Go back to sleep.” 

Fennec hesitates, standing in front of him awkwardly. She can tell he’s not doing alright, he knows she’s very observant and clever. He’s only known her for a short amount of time, but she’s stuck around. He likes to think they know each other quite well, despite both of their more solemn natures. She kneels so she can face him clearly. “You had a bad dream.” 

“No,” Boba denies with aggression. “I hit my head.” 

“I hear- I _heard_ you crying in your sleep.” 

Boba clenches his jaw. “N- no.” he stumbles. It’s the only word he can say. He’s just _burning_ with anger at himself, burning at his weakness. 

“I have them too.” 

Boba looks at her, surprised. She nods affirmatively and somewhat shamefully. 

“I… I did not die at once.” She says, eyes far away. She leaves too, apparently. 

“No. Neither did I.” Boba says, staring ahead.

“Do you want to… talk about it?” Fennec asks, albeit a bit awkwardly. Boba supposed he’s not the only one lacking sincere social graces. He appreciates her asking, but he fears that opening it up will make it so much more real. 

“I apologize for waking you up, but you should go to bed. I'll go check where we are.” 

Fennec knows a dismissal and nods, standing and climbing up to her bunk. Before Boba stand up, she says “It can’t hurt you here.” 

Stunned, Boba pauses. His skin no longer feels like it’s on fire, but he’s too- afraid, really- to fall asleep again. That would mean falling back into the pit. He speaks before he can help it. “Wait."

She does, hovering on her ladder. 

"Sometimes I think I’m there again. When I’m sleeping.” He rushes out, feeling like a fool. "It's like a muscle memory."

“Like your body can't shut down right anymore.”

“Yeah. Like that.” 

Fennec thankfully doesn't say anything, just nods. “I knew a man who did that once,” Fennec says, lowering herself so she can sit on the second to last rung. “His daughter called it warrior's guilt.” 

It’s rather fitting. Boba’s mind flashes elsewhere. “Was he a clone?” 

“No, he was a slave. He had to fight for sport.” 

“And how does he fare now?” 

Fennec sounds truly sad. “He doesn’t.” 

“Right,” Boba says heavily, leaning forward on his knees. Fennec’s legs swing over the metal sides of her bunk. “Well thank you, for that.” 

“I’m sorry, I was trying to help.” She says apprehensively. It hits him that this might be the most vulnerable she’s seen him. 

Boba chuckles lowly, rubbing his temples. “It’s alright. I know where to not draw parallels.” The hum of the hyperdrive is comforting in the silence that follows. A button beeps somewhere. The ship is still flying. His heart is still working. His breaths, shallow and ragged, are still coming out. His heart has calmed. And he’s not alone, which is nice, because it makes the little room feel fuller, a little warmer. 

As if she can hear him, Fennec speaks. “May I ask you a question?” 

“Don’t ask me if you can ask me questions." Fennec waits and Boba sighs. "Yes you can.” 

“Sorry. I was going to ask how you view your scars?” 

“How should I view them? They’re a part of me. Regardless.” 

Fennec leans forward on her knees. “I view mine as defeat.” They both know she’s referring to her bound stomach, the levers inside pulling inhumanly. He sometimes catches her fingers twitching towards it, tense and on guard. Her face pinched. Boba could not begin to understand how she feels, their experiences so apart. Some parts of them are similar, but the majority of such is the outcome. 

“Then you should see your survival as a victory.” 

“And yours as well, Boba.” She returns evenly. The use of his name makes him feel known.

“We make quite the duo, don’t we?” He asks, sounding weary, but so does she. 

Fennec breathes out. “That we do,” she says, climbing down the ladder. “I’m guessing neither of us are planning to get back to sleep, we might as well go to the cockpit.” 

“Wait. Something to pass the time until we arrive.” 

Boba stands finally, steadily. And kneels at his fathers trunk, pulling out a musty bottle and two glasses. He pours two cups and stands. He’s startled by Fennec standing right behind him. “Shit!” he drops one cup and hardly catches the other. 

"Sorry,” Fennec says, but she’s amused. “Light feet.” 

“I’ll say. You’re pouring your own.” Boba grumbles, making her snicker. “And don’t say anything about me being old, I’m in my early forties.” 

Fennec shoots him an unimpressed look, steadily pouring the blue drink. She sets the bottle down. 

“To being alive.” she offers, seriously. 

“To surviving.” Boba adds. 

“To staying alive.” 

“To taking over the Hutt crime syndicate.” They clink glasses and drink, but not until Fennec’s said, 

“To no more guilt.”

**Author's Note:**

> comments and kudos are always appreciated


End file.
